Elite (Citizen Saga, Book 1) (10 page)

This was harder than I thought it would be. And it wasn't all because of my unstable reaction to the Serenity Tab. Trent Masters kept looking at me as though he wanted to own me, and I wondered in just what capacity that ownership would be.

The question of why he wanted that file was on the tip of my tongue, but I didn't trust this man. In a world where trust was hard to find, I would have been insane to do so. And despite my hobbies, I wasn't crazy.

But I did need Lena Carr scrubbed, so if that meant dangling the file in front of his nose like a carrot to achieve that, then I would.

"You've done your homework, Elite," he said slowly, placing the menu he'd been holding as a prop down on the table and making it seem like I was trapped. The blue of his eyes darkening with some emotion I couldn't identify.

"It seemed wise," I offered with the hint of an Elite smile.

If he wanted to keep reminding me I was an Elite, I'd play the part. Of course, as soon as he knew what
I
wanted, he'd know my alias.

And I suddenly had grave reservations about all of this.

That trapped feeling became a crushing weight. No matter what I did, I exposed myself. And right now, exposure seemed like a very bad idea.

"Who are you?" The words slipped out in a moment of sheer panic. I cursed my need to dose up in time for the celebration. I wasn't at the top of my game today, but time was running out. To reacquaint myself with Serenity safely, it had to be conducted over an extended period and in ever increasing measured increments, or I'd tailspin like Aiko had.

"A Citizen trying to survive," he replied.

"Why the Cardinal impersonation?"

"Why the flight-suit and jumping off a high-rise?"

I glanced around the rear of the restaurant, but the patrons and waiters were all engaged and hadn't overheard.

I leaned over the table, like I had with Tan at the café. Trent's lips twitched, but he leaned closer too. I could smell his cologne from here, it was disturbingly attractive. Like the man.

"I'm a bored Elite. A girl's gotta have some fun," I offered.

He burst out laughing, his whole demeanour changing like it had so briefly on the Rap-Trans train. Fine wrinkles appearing around his deep blue eyes, his full mouth open and relaxed in a beaming smile. The deep chuckle rumbling from within his shaking chest.

He was the most vibrantly alive person I had ever met. Not bothered that his laughter was inappropriate. Not concerned that he exhibited non-model behaviour.

I envied that freedom. I was intensely jealous of his ability to forget our country's restraints.

I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest as his laughter subsided. His eyes trailed over my face and stance, his façade again returning to that hardness he used as a mask.

"Do you know what it is?" he asked, and I had no doubt he was referring to the file.

"Do you?" I returned, unwilling to admit my ignorance.

"You must have an idea of its importance," he offered. "The Cardinals are blanketing the streets looking for you. People are being wiped."

My body jerked. Just slightly. Hopefully not enough for him to have noticed my reaction to his words. He seemed to not have, as he kept talking without pause.

"There are more sPol on every corner than ever. Word is, curfew will be extended for tonight."

"It's Friday," I unintelligibly replied. Friday and Saturday were the only two days without curfew. Our reward for being model Citizens during the week.

But then, I hadn't been a model Citizen, had I?

"I feel honoured," I quipped. "A whole city punished for my deeds."

He leaned forward, his eyes dark chips of blue. "They're waiting for you to open that file," he whispered. "The moment you do, they will pounce."

My breath stalled. The file had been booby trapped. I hadn't even considered that fact. What would have happened if Zhang Yong had opened it for me?

I would have been wiped along with the Yehs.

"You understand," Trent continued to whisper. "I wondered if your bravado was all for show or not. I'm pleased to see you have some self-preservation inside that lovely Elite head."

It took a second or two for me to find my equilibrium again. To return to the Elite I so often was forced to play. My reaction times were off. My thought processes sluggish. I should never have considered making this meeting. And now I knew my attendance was for naught.

"That is a shame," I said. "It will make it harder to sell."

He pulled back, surprised I think. Shocked, maybe even disgusted.

"What did you think I did with my acquisitions, Citizen?" I asked archly. "I don't hide them away in a vault and dream of them at night. They serve a purpose. And now I have to consider what purpose my latest asset will serve."

His uncomfortably intense eyes scanned my face. Looking for an answer I was sure he wouldn't find.

"You can't need the money. You're the last of the Carstairs," he pointed out.

I shrugged my shoulders and lifted my menu up off the table as the waiter appeared.

"I'll have the Chilli Crab in Hot Stone," I said. "I've been told it's quite good."

The waiter nodded as he entered the order into his handheld computer. He turned to Trent, who was still watching me intently, a look in his eyes I didn't much like. I'd seen him smiling now, genuinely amused. To be the object of such honest dislike wasn't welcome.

"The same," he snapped, not taking his eyes off my face.

The waiter, no doubt suspecting we were lovers arguing, simply took the menus without a word.

"Your manners are slipping, Citizen," I said pleasantly, as though I wasn't cringing every time he frowned.

"I feel disinclined to play the game today," he replied, voice dark.

"Is it a game?" I asked, repositioning my empty wine glass absently. "I thought it more a war."

"When have you battled for anything, Honourable?"

I lifted my eyes to his set face and held his accusing stare.

"Every day my Shiloh wakes me," I replied in a steady voice.

"How tragic. Confined to the rules of a society and yet held above the majority for nothing less than your chance of birth."

"You seem to have a chip on your shoulder, Citizen. Do you long for the boredom too?"

"You think we don't get bored?" he demanded in a purposely muted hiss. Even angry, we knew to keep our conversations quiet. "Hemmed in on this island and made to conform? There is only so much a Citizen can do for enjoyment in the suburbs, Honourable. Unlike you, we can't afford the glittering parties and fancy purchases and luxury foods."

I didn't know what to say to that. Part of me was appalled to hear the truth in his words. Part of me was so irate that he thought privilege equalled happiness.

"And should I gift you my stipend, would your life alter so greatly?" I asked.

He stilled. "It would alter," he finally whispered.

"Enough for you not to become bored?"

He was silent for so long I thought he wouldn't reply. But slowly his face melted into a less defiant expression, his shoulders relaxed their stiff and tight stance. He let a breath out and ran a hand through his dark hair, bringing my attention to its length again. He really ought to have it cut.

"You're right," he conceded, eventually. "There is no escape for any of us."

"We should not desire for more than we have. Wánměi provides all that we need." I repeated the doctrine softly, my finger running along the edge of the table and back again. My eyes downcast.

"You don't believe that," he said. Not a question. A statement.

I'm not sure why I answered. Why I admitted so much. Exposed myself to that degree. Maybe it was because I didn't want to ever see that disappointment in those deep blue eyes again. Maybe it was the Serenity Tab lingering in my system and making me rash.

"I'm not sure what I believe anymore." The words hung in the air, suspended like a bright, pulsating star between us, impossible to ignore. Until the waiter arrived and placed our dishes in front of us, breaking the spell.

Steam wafted off our superheated bowls, the liquid of the crab bisque sizzling against the stone. I wasn't sure I had any appetite left, but not consuming a meal in public was considered inappropriate and definitely not model behaviour. I lifted my spoon and scooped up a portion of the liquid, then blew on it softly working up to swallowing it down.

"I actually prefer dim sum," Trent suddenly said. "There's this street vendor on
Elliott
Street that makes the best I've ever tasted."

My head came up and I scanned his face for subterfuge. My
Wáikěiton
home was on
Elliott
Street, just down from that particular roadside stall. But he was sipping his soup like a good Citizen and didn't seem to be aware of my sudden alarm.

"I think I'd prefer it," I admitted, forcing myself to sound natural. "This is too salty by far."

"Do you want to ditch it?" he asked. "I could take you to the dim sums."

"That wouldn't be appropriate," I automatically replied.

"Watch this," he said with a wicked glint in his eyes, throwing me entirely off balance.

He waved the waiter over and in perfect
Wáitaměi
asked for the dishes to be packaged to-go. The waiter didn't even bat an eyelash. It could have been the sexy smirk Trent offered me, making the server think we'd reconciled and decided to take our reunion - and meal - home.

For some reason I smiled back at him, amused and impressed at the same time.

The Chilli Crabs were returned to us in pretty little take-out packages, our reputations intact. Trent picked them up, after we both paid for the meals in cash, sharing a look as our credits hit the table simultaneously. It was a cashless society, but those of us trying to stay under the Overseer radar managed to carry more than just plastic electronically chipped cards. I saw the surprise in his eyes, which was carefully hidden as he moved to let me walk out of the restaurant first.

It was strange walking through
Wáikěiton
with him. This was my natural environment. I knew every street and lane, every alley and back pathway. I also knew every shop owner and a fair few of the inhabitants, my face as Lena Carr quite recognisable. Today I kept my head down and didn't make eye contact, avoiding a wave or smile, or worse still, my name being called out.

Sooner or later I was sure my alias would become known to the man at my side. But for now, I needed a little longer before he became aware.

We rounded the corner into
Elliott
Street and I began counting off the Cardinal drones and those of the people busily occupied on the packed street I thought were Cardinals as well. There were fifteen in total. Two drones standing opposite the front door to my home. I suspected there were more around the back.

"Why so many Cardinals?" Trent murmured, as though to himself. He slowed his pace, eyes darting left and right, and then surreptitiously scanning the rooftops.

I felt safe enough walking here, as long as no one called out my name. But with Cardinals present, the entire neighbourhood was purposely unfriendly. No greetings. No smiles. Hardly a word. Just the hum of air-con units, the low rumble of cars on
Wellesley Street West
, and the clatter of feet along pavement.

A heavy pall had fallen over this segment of
Wáikěiton
and it was all my fault.

I used the opportunity to check the windows of my home, to see if movement within was noticeable. It was hard to tell from where we currently were, but the dim sum stall was across the street and once we reached there it would be easier to see.

"Is that your vendor?" I asked, as Trent seemed to be going slower still.

"I think we should leave," he advised, his shoulders again quite rigid.

"I'd like to try it," I pressed, walking across the street.

"Wait!" he called out softly behind me, trying not to get noticed by either the sPol or the iPol, both of which walked the street.

"Come on!" I said, offering a smile over my shoulder. "You promised."

I saw the indecision on his face, the concern and fear that most Citizens had when surrounded by Cardinals, but just as quickly as they appeared they vanished. And once again the mask was back in place.

He strode over to stand beside me, missing the vendor's greeting as I had hoped. Much of what I did under the darkness of night relied on perfect timing. I approached this moment exactly the same way. While the vendor began preparing our dishes, and Trent fell into his own act and started explaining why he liked these particular dim sums the best, I scanned the windows of my apartment. Now at an angle where I could see inside.

It took a second. Maybe more. For me to see a shadow behind the curtain at my lounge. It shouldn't have been there... and then it moved. I held my breath as the vendor handed me my bowl, but didn't immediately move to eat. My eyes locked on the shadow as it approached the window itself, pulling the curtain back and looking out onto the street.